Fear In A Handful of Dust
by Katie Havok
Summary: Tina despairs that he generally keeps it polite, but her Newt contains multitudes and one night he throws his normal reticence over in favor of hunger and succeeds in stealing her breath. Possibly her heart, as well. (Or: Newt and Tina navigate a tricky pregnancy.)
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:** Okay, folks—here we have the obligatory "pregnant Tina!fic", but this one...well, let's just say that she doesn't have a good or _easy_ time of it. **Warning** for graphic descriptions of childbirth, mentions of sex (spicy, but nothing smutty) and discussion of abortion. _If these are a trigger for you, **then I'd recommend you seek a different story.**_

* * *

Newt returns to New York in the sultriness of August.

In her eagerness, Tina arrives hours early to collect him. He comes to her armed with a nervous smile, a clear schedule, and a surprising financial windfall. Repeated absence is said to make the heart grow fonder, and her fondness for him has grown immeasurably, so she gathers him up and takes him to their new apartment, for her home is his now.

He settles in easily enough, and they circle each other like prey while they adjust to their new paradigm.

They continually challenge the boundaries of their interactions until she falters first, kissing him there on the couch, finally mustering the courage to take the initiative. Tina presses her lips to his without warning and discovers his mouth to be more humid than the air outside, his lips firm and surprisingly talented. She curiously tastes his teeth and samples his tongue and decides, after, that he tastes remarkably pleasant, if somewhat wild.

This first encounter is slow and tenuous and entirely _decent_ —until Newt deepens it with a hungry sound, his arms pulling her close enough for his stubble to rasp against the delicate skin of her cheek. They eventually part with a gasp. Newt's eyes are dark, his lips swollen when he stares at her, and Tina discovers that she likes this look on him. She likes it very much.

They continue to circle around the issue at the center of them but make kissing part of their routine. Tina thinks that having her mouth pressed against Newt's, sharing his air and feeling his hands clutching her sides, is as natural as breathing. Their embraces occur with cherished regularity: every morning upon waking and every evening before sleep, and sometimes in between—random moments made all the sweeter for their unexpectedness.

Tina sometimes despairs that he generally keeps it polite, but her Newt contains multitudes. One night he throws his normal reticence over in favor of _hunger_ and succeeds in stealing her breath.

Possibly her heart, as well.

* * *

September brings heat and thunderstorms and a new depth of feeling between them.

Though it is a welcome addition in her life, Tina finds it catching her off-guard in the most surprising moments. Newt pulls her close and ravishes her some nights, and within the heat of his passion, there's a half-formed gesture that speaks of something _more_. On these instances, she holds him close and breathes in his rustic scent while wondering what it all means.

Tina writes to her sister regularly, and though she doesn't say much about Newt, Queenie is astute and picks up on her insecurities anyway. She does her best to reassure and invariably ends her letters by admonishing Tina to breathe, to relax, and with a properly reassuring statement. _He's gone on you, Teenie!_ , or _Just you wait—it'll be the berries!_ Tina finds herself amused and mortified in turn by these blithe promises, but she can't smother the swell of hope each one brings.

There comes a night when his mouth finds hers and elevates them to a new level. He traces her lips with his tongue while his fingers map the skin on her arm, feather-light, down to her hand. Newt presses his palm into hers and threads their fingers, causing Tina to gasp at the unexpected intimacy of the gesture. He swallows the sound and returns it with one of his own. When they finally part, his eyes gleam at her in the dark.

Before long, it isn't unusual for them to walk-in-hand when he drops Tina at work, or while wandering through the No-Maj district to their preferred market. Sometimes, when Newt passes her an item, he lingers to allow their fingers to brush, and it never fails to make her heart race. Sometimes, Tina runs the tips of her fingers over the scars on his knuckles, and his eyes darken at the contact.

Tina gets into the habit of joining him in the case during his evening chores, and she slings an arm around his waist to press close. He always smiles down at her when she does this, a slow, languid thing, and Tina wonders vaguely if reaching out to _touch_ him is the same as touching his heart. Then he wraps a possessive arm around her and greets the next creature, and she doesn't have to wonder anymore because she _knows._

She soon comes to realize that Newt's heart is infinitely large, with the same fabled nine chambers as a dragon's, because it lives in his smile and in his eyes, and in every animal in his case. It's in her too, a permanent fixture, and the revelation calms her on nights when she lays in her narrow bed and _burns_ for him.

* * *

October brings clear blue skies and fallen leaves.

The cooler air and crisp wind usher with them a stark escalation of their strange and tentative romance. The apex of their evenings sees gentle kisses turn into teasing nips, which melt into a passionate embrace that leaves them both gasping and wanting for _more_. Newt is no longer hesitant to touch her, and eventually, their hands wander to areas that cannot be considered decent. Neither of them cares.

Her Newt learns to touch and tease in ways that make her quiver; she learns the correct pressure to use when rubbing and stroking, ultimately leaving him boneless and gasping. In time, they discover how quickly one can work through a row of buttons on a fine linen shirt, how much force it takes to tear a satin blouse. How much time is required to loosen trousers enough to grant access to one hand, always welcome.

More and more after each of these intense sessions, Tina finds herself daydreaming of his hands and his mouth, and the _other_ parts of him. It becomes a constant distraction, one she cannot shake. Focusing on the most basic of tasks become difficult because the tasks are not _him_. Even something as seemingly simple as walking home is affected when she is too bemused to take the proper route, and she finds herself in an unfamiliar neighborhood.

Newt is in a similar predicament if the absent air he wears while he goes about his day is any indication. The only time his gaze is intent, the only time the haze leaves his eyes, is when they are on _her._ Then he is startlingly direct, and always efficient. He never fails to satisfy.

Tina allows this to go on for a full week before she makes her move.

She goes to his room one night to find him lying awake. He doesn't seem surprised to see her, and an anticipatory thrill works through Tina as they stare across space at each other. Newt acts as though he has been waiting for this moment, and she suspects that he _has_ been because he welcomes her into his bed without hesitation.

There are no words between them when she drapes herself over his body. The city lights bathe him in shadows, but she can make out silver scars marring his skin amid a constellation of freckles. She traces them with her tongue and finds they taste like him: masculine, slightly musky, somehow wild.

Taking him into herself is a revelation: he fits perfectly, and though Tina dominates from up top, he is anything but passive. His fingers trace every inch of her skin, sometimes teasing, occasionally clutching when sensation overcomes him. Newt's voice is rich and low when he speaks to her, lifting her when she falters, when it all becomes too much and she quivers to a halt.

Her climax is shocking in its intensity. Newt steadies her with broad hands while she twitches and gasps. She allows him to take over from below after she collapses onto him, boneless and sated, twitching his hips against her. He soon finds his release, trembling hands clamping down manacle-hard while Tina moans and welcomes his seed into herself.

The light of morning reveals stark bruises against the creamy expanse of her thighs. Newt despairs of them, but then his teeth and hands are on her body and the marks quickly lose significance. Tina allows his body to cover hers and Newt moves against her powerfully enough to further mar her skin, effectively distracting them both.


	2. Chapter 2

November heralds chilly evenings, the decision to share a bed, and a heightened sense of smell that regularly leaves Tina feeling ill.

Her stomach aches more days than not, and her breasts are tender beyond reckoning. Even the butter-soft of her camisole is too much, most days. As if that weren't enough, a bone-deep weariness claims her, one that no amount of sleep seems to shake.

One night after love-making, Tina finds Newt tracing her nipple thoughtfully. The skin there has darkened, the flesh around the peak somehow broadening, and she can see him contemplating what it could mean.

Tina muddles and stumbles through these challenges since she knows no other way to be. She naps when she can and does her best to keep Newt from actively worrying about her. This doesn't help keep her from worrying about _herself_ though, and as the strange symptoms continue unabated, she finally considers seeing a healer.

Then comes the morning, a week before the Thanksgiving holiday, when he sets her usual coffee before her and the scent causes her to _heave_ all over the table.

Newt hovers worriedly until the fit passes. Then he sits her down and cleans up the mess, never saying a word. When he's done and can stall no longer, he crouches before her, eyes impossible to decipher. Keeping his voice pitched to the tone he uses when working with frightened or dangerous creatures, he talks her through the list of her symptoms and their possible causes until only one conclusion remains.

Tina wants to deny the possibility but it _fits_. She bursts into panicked tears when he says the words.

Newt's hands tremble when he pulls out his wand and points it at her midsection. Tina's eyes widen when the charm resolves into a small, gray shape, hovering just above her navel, with a rapid pulse of red fluttering deep within. Newt stares at the apparition for a full minute, glassy-eyed and frozen. Then his gaze flicks to her face, back to the biological destiny his spell reveals, and clenches his jaw.

He keeps his face carefully angled toward the ground when he _turns his back on her_ and walks away. The door snaps shut behind him, and she hears him descend into his case.

Tina stares mournfully at the pulsing wisp that has changed everything so suddenly until it vanishes and she's alone. She allows herself a single moment of pained self-reproach, putting her face in her hands as her shoulders shake.

Then she dries her tears, cold and alone in the kitchen, and prepares to face the day.

* * *

December ushers in a misery of gray slush, gray skies, and constant nausea.

Tina does her best to juggle the demands of her career and her ever-changing body, but by the time she pulls out the Chanukiah, she is exhausted beyond measure and feeling the full effects of her altered nutritional status.

Food puts her off entirely; the few things that tempt her often come back up soon after or leave her feeling intolerably queasy. Leaving and entering the building is always a challenge: the lingering cooking smells in the hallway make her head spin. Newt eventually takes a thin scarf and soaks it in mint so she can hold it over her nose and mouth. It helps sometimes.

Newt remains prickly, and Tina isn't sure if he's upset with her or with himself. He makes no move to touch her, not even for a quick embrace, and that hurts Tina in ways she cannot articulate.

They continue to share a bed, but most nights she can barely tolerate it. He is feet away from her and covered, but he still puts out a ridiculous amount of cloying heat when he sleeps. Worse still is the masculine scent of his body, and there are nights when that alone wakes her and sends her hurtling toward the toilet.

Her time at work is little better because much of it is spent huddled in the water closet, retching up bile. She can smell her coworkers' meals on them when they approach her, and the building is always too hot, too stuffy, too _close_. Only the trip to and from MACUSA brings some color into Tina's gray existence. The smog of New York chokes her, but she can at least shed her jacket to walk in the crisp air, and in doing so, experience some measure of relief. Then it's up the fetid stairs to a too-warm apartment, and a man who treats her with deference, and her misery returns.

Tina broaches the subject of termination just once, after spending the day working up the nerve. Newt shares with her a look of such abject misery at the suggestion that she chokes and doesn't bring the subject up again. In truth, she is relieved by his distress. It means that, on some level, _he still cares._ Her own misery is temporary, and while she is a modern and independent woman, the life growing within her evokes a primordial satisfaction and fierce protectiveness. She could no more end _it_ than she could end _herself._

Despite her resolve, things deteriorate as the month passes, both for Tina's health and her relationship with Newt.

By the first day of Chanukah, she is unable to tolerate food at all, and much of what she drinks comes back up as well. Her morning, noon and evening are all the same unending suffering. Sleeping brings some measure of relief, but even that's a double-edged sword, for as soon as her head lifts from the pillow, she wages a constant battle with her gorge.

Tina takes to bedding down on the couch at night, both to avoid the scent of her bed-mate and as an unspoken acknowledgment of his displeasure. Newt doesn't seem to notice, and he certainly doesn't comment or ask her to return, and that hurt compounds her other miseries.

She faints on New Year's eve while straining to empty her stomach. One second, she is hunched and retching; the next, the world is grayed-out and swirling around her, and her ears clog with muffled sound. She tumbles and is senseless to it.

When Tina comes to, Newt is leaning over and attempting to rouse her. His expression is panicked, bottom lip caught firmly between his teeth. She wants to reach out and touch him; she wants to push his hair back and reassure him that all will be well. Tina takes in the contours of his worried face and discovers she is too brittle and dehydrated to cry.

His eyes are damp when he pulls her into his arms and settles her on their couch. Newt checks her for injury before tempting her with a cold glass of water. She drinks because he asks it of her and because her heart is soaring with the return of his attention. He is as infinitely kind and gentle with her as she remembers—and quick too, when Tina's chest and stomach clench without warning and he conjures a basin to catch the mess.

He steadies her until she calms, hands shaking with nerves, then wipes her face and mouth with a cool cloth. He pushes her messy hair back and kisses her forehead, and the scratch of his stubble is achingly familiar.

Newt doesn't ask for her forgiveness and she doesn't offer it. There have been too many things _wrong_ with them over the past month, and it will take time and patience to heal those wounds. Instead, he slots himself back into the empty space at her side, fitting as if he'd never left, and doesn't leave it again.

* * *

January brings cold and fierce storms.

A knock sounds on the door early one morning. Newt opens it to admit Percival Graves, looking dark and formidable and vastly confused. Tina struggles up from the couch to greet him but does a bad job of it, and so settles back with a pained sigh. Graves' eyes gentle and fill with understanding when he takes her in, and his voice is kind when he informs her that she's been granted an indefinite leave from work, due to her fragile health.

The modern woman in Tina wants to protest and seethe at this treatment, but she hasn't the strength. Instead, she looks around with apathetic eyes and sees the apartment as Graves must surely do: dusty, cold due to her intolerance of excessive heat, and managed single-handedly by a wizard with a history of both absent-mindedness and running himself ragged.

She sighs and accepts her helpless fate, at last noticing the exhausted pits beneath Newt's eyes, the air of quiet desperation clinging to him.

Newt sees her boss out, and Tina takes up her daily ritual. This consists mostly of watching the clock in a stupor between bouts of doubling over the basin and attempts to retain fluid. Newt returns to hover worriedly, and Tina can't find the energy to express her appreciation for the simple act of _being there._ At one point he takes her hand, calloused thumb rubbing soothing circles into her skin. Her hands are bony and claw-like in his broader one and pale almost to translucence. Her fingers resemble talons, and she has to look away.

She hardly has reason to leave the couch anymore, but when she does need the toilet or just to relieve aching muscles, the room spins and whirls around her. Newt always allows her to make the attempt on her own, but more often than not Tina ends up leaning on him for support. Then he sees her safely settled back on her perch, and returns to his daily vigil. Typically this involves her rejecting all his offers of food until her skin has a distinctly green cast. They compromise by doing their level best to keep fluid in her while her body wastes away.

Newt gives her sponge baths to keep her skin healthy and is always careful to keep his eyes averted from her most intimate places. He makes potions that attempt to relieve nausea, and another that she can use to keep her mouth healthy. She gags horribly when she swishes it around, but it's still infinitely better than attempting to brush her teeth.

Newt does what he can to help her but mostly, despite his best efforts, he flounders. Tina thinks that's okay because she is floundering too.

The witch-midwife responds to Newt's summons by the end of the month, and the visit starts disastrously. She examines Tina and expresses shocked outrage at her condition. It takes her actually seeing Tina's reaction to food to understand that she hasn't _chosen_ her current condition. By this point, Newt is quietly furious, hands curled into fists at his side.

The situation resolves quickly enough once the crone is made to understand how violently Tina reacts to food, and Newt eventually relaxes. When the witch declares the baby healthy despite Tina's challenges, she plies them with various anti-emesis potions and praises Newt for his attention. She then takes her leave, and the two share a sigh of relief.

On her way out, the crone assures them that Tina's intractable nausea should be resolving itself soon, but they are too skeptical and apathetic to be excited by this possibility.


	3. Chapter 3

February starts much the same as January and December before but ends on an unexpectedly higher note.

Tina spends every day either ill, swooning, or in a purgatorial state. The potion's the witch-midwife left do nothing except make her feel loopy for the few minutes they remain in her, and eventually, they are banished to a side table and forgotten.

Newt maintains his patient vigil, and Tina reflects dully that what she had once _thought_ was love must be the true thing. He has no reason to stay otherwise. He forms no outward attachment to her slowly expanding middle and certainly isn't getting anything physical from their relationship. She can't even kiss him and is unable to tolerate being close to him. Still, he suffers at her side, losing weight along with her, skipping meals to keep away the heavy smell of cooking, and rubbing oils into her skin and nails when they flake and peel and split.

Then comes the morning when she awakens and senses an immediate change. It takes only moments to place and brings entirely new fears. Tina feels distressingly _well_ , and the change is so abrupt from her new normal that she bursts into tears.

Newt's there to console her but she cannot describe to him the breadth of her combined relief and terror. Her suffering is gone for now, but she doesn't know what this means for the health of the child she carries. Tina finds the curse of expectation a heavier burden than the suffering of the previous months, and she isn't sure she can handle this new weight.

Tina shoves her worries aside and requests a drink of water. He gives it to her and waits while she sips at it. Miraculously, the drink remains where she puts it, though her stomach does ache terribly afterward. She waits two hours, and then enjoys another, her tongue delightfully moist. She manages one more after that and has to call it quits—she feels languid and waterlogged in a way she can scarce recall from _before._

Newt seems positively giddy by contrast, and he shares a true smile with her for the first time in weeks. It warms her to her toes, and when he tucks her into sleep, she is able to tolerate him kissing her forehead. She has to hold her breath but counts it as progress. Even the lingering masculine scent of him is starting to fade, and Tina is delighted to discover that what remains doesn't bother her overmuch.

This also warms her, and she falls asleep clutching the barest thread of _hope._

* * *

March brings sun and clouds, snow and rain in equal measure, and for Tina, some small amount of peace.

She still has her bad moments; there are days where she wakes and knows instantly that eating and drinking will be impossible. There are also days where she can tolerate fluids and very small, light meals. Her Newt proves a capable cook of the basics, so porridge and dry toast become a staple. Better still, there are nights when she can return to the bed she shares with him, and with her nose tucked beneath the covers she can tolerate his earthy scent.

As the weather turn a corner, the good days start to outnumber the bad. Her strength returns quicker than she had ever imagined possible, and by the end of the month she's toddling around the apartment and doing very simple chores. She eats whenever the urge takes her, careful to avoid mixing food and beverage—her stomach still protests when she does—but otherwise drinking freely.

The cracks and peels in her skin heal; her nails stop splitting and grow prodigiously. Her cheeks remain sunken, but her skin loses its yellowish pall in favor of an almost preternatural glow.

Best of all, Tina's waist expands and widens and curves. Only she is aware of it because her clothes hang off her emaciated frame and do a good job of hiding her changing midsection. It gives her a secret thrill, whenever she changes her clothes or uses the toilet and she finds herself having to _look past_ the thing growing inside her. Her hands often go to her stomach without thought, sometimes clasping protectively, sometimes rubbing soothingly.

One evening, Newt draws her a bath and helps her remove her pajamas. Tina settles into the water while he turns away to gather a washcloth and towel; when he turns back, his eyes drop to her abdomen, and his entire self _freezes._ Tina follows his gaze while holding her breath.

The swelling is obvious, the formerly flat plane of her stomach round with new life just beneath her naval, conspicuous against the stark angles of her body. The proud curve is smaller than it should be but there's no mistaking what it represents.

Her Newt moves like a man in a dream when his hand drifts out and settles over the bump, cupping it protectively. His eyes, when they find hers, are impossibly proud and impossibly gentle. And he's smiling at her as though she is precious beyond measure.

Newt washes her, dries her, settles her into bed. Tina feels well enough to allow him close and he curls around her despite the early hour, hands drifting to her midsection.

He falls asleep like that, cradling them close, and Tina finds it within her to begin the process of forgiving him.

* * *

April comes with lashing rains and the scent of flowers, while changes occur in Tina that she isn't sure she's prepared to handle.

Each critical look in the mirror frightens her deeply; she is still almost skeletally thin, despite every effort to eat, and her face remains hollow. She worries about the health of her child, though she does her best and Newt ensures she has only the freshest, most nutritious food available. Still, it doesn't feel like it's enough, and for the first time in her adult life, Tina bemoans her metabolism.

Despite her jutting hip bones and the stack of her ribs, her midsection continues to swell proudly with their pup. Her hair and nails flourish, and her skin _glows_. Newt calls her beautiful one day, in an off-hand manner, and Tina chokes and looks away. The compliment hurts and inspires in equal measure.

She doesn't dwell overlong on the confused tangle of her feelings because her emotions are ever-changing and volatile. Something that could make her laugh one day, is just as likely to cast her into fitful sobbing the next. Her Newt weathers this storm as well as he has all others—a constant, slightly-fumbling, always nervous rock. She can see the effect it's all having on him, however. The dark circles around his eyes, the sharpness of his jaw...he's exhausted and wrung out from propping her up, not just physically but emotionally, and Tina still isn't quite strong enough to stand on her own.

Very early one morning, Tina is jolted from restless sleep by a series of jolts against her side. She sighs heavily and prepares to abrade Newt for interrupting her rest when the strange fluttery taps come again. Tina instantly realizes two things: that Newt is snoring blissfully, still deeply asleep; and that those fluttery blows came from _within._ Another volley and Tina draws a quick breath, bottom lip slipping between her teeth.

Newt stirs at the sound and comes awake. When he casts a light to ascertain that she's okay, she takes his hand and presses it against the bump their child creates. Then she waits, holding her breath.

Another tap, lighter than the others, almost cautious. A greeting, if she were of a more poetic mindset. Newt feels it too, for he starts, blinks and then _beams_ at her, eyes dancing. His hand remains on her belly until the child settles. Then Newt tucks her close, his chin resting on the top of her head, and hums contentedly as dawn breaks outside their window.


	4. Chapter 4

May brings warmth and golden sunshine into their lives, and for the first time in months, Tina is completely herself.

Newt plies her with food, and with her nausea departing entirely, at last, she eats her fill. Each week sees Tina's body demanding a new culinary confection. She subsists entirely off little sour pickles one week. The next, she consumes the contents of Newt's jam collection, packed specially for him by his mother.

He allows her to hoard it all, smiling softly, and always offers seconds.

Tina walks as well, starting with trips up and down her apartment stairs, ending with strolls on his arm around the block. The food and exercise do her good. Her face fills back in, and her skin maintains a healthy glow. She is positively lush, and when Newt looks at her, she feels herself responding on a base level.

Her stomach continues to round out while their child enjoys regular activity, and this makes her nearly giddy. The baby stretches and rolls and cavorts so often that Newt takes to referring to it as The Squid, and Tina laughs and laughs.

May also brings the end to Newt's reticence to touch her. One sunny afternoon, after returning from their walk, when there's a fresh breeze wafting through the apartment, she pulls him into bed and he does not resist. Her Newt undresses her and handles her as though she is incredibly precious to him, and Tina basks in the warmth of his regard. He wonders initially about harming the baby, but Tina uses her hands and mouth to soothe and ignite him in turns, and she manages to peel back his hesitancy.

They make love with care, and Newt is careful to avoid her tender breasts and the curve of her stomach. Tina is incredibly full and sensitive down there, her climax a series of heated pulses that go on and on until she sobs her relief. When her legs cramp and she tires of holding them up, he turns them on their sides and takes her from behind.

He rocks them slowly to allow her to calm, kissing the back of her neck and murmuring in her ear. Once she's ready, he resumes his previous tempo. Tina's newfound responsiveness combine with his clever angle to tease another orgasm from her, less intense than the first but no less welcome. Newt follows soon after, shocked gasps sounding in her ear as he clutches her convulsively.

Then it's over, and she clasps him while their sweat cools.

* * *

June rushes in as heat and thunderstorms, swollen feet and hair sticking to the nape of her neck.

Tina grumbles and swells and retains water and _sweats_. She is constantly achy and uncomfortable, and they both suffer for it. Newt spends the majority of his time refreshing cooling charms and rubbing her tired feet and legs. He helps leverage her from a seated position so she can waddle to the toilet, and insists that she rest and gather her energy while he handles the household tasks.

He's been doing these things since November, really, but she is grouchy and uncomfortable and can't help sulking.

The breadth of her abdomen increases exponentially, and there are days they swear they can _watch_ it expand. Sleep becomes a fond memory, for her bladder is always demanding relief. The child picks nighttime to be active, and while Tina relishes every jab and kick, she wishes the baby would give her the occasional night to just _rest._

Newt is by her side as he's always been, reading to her when sleep evades them and sometimes just keeping her close.

One particular evening ends with Tina begging him to make love to her, so he tucks her close and rolls his hips into her. The rocking calms the baby, for it settles down and allows Tina to sleep. Her rest is blissful until a particularly vicious leg cramp wakes her, and Newt is there for that too, rubbing out the ache and kissing her puffy feet. Then he kisses her mouth and calls her beautiful, and Tina refrains from grumbling moodily.

Toward the end of the month, as Tina's time quickly approaches, Newt disappears into the city for an entire day. When he returns, he removes a series of shrunken packages from his pocket and taps them with his wand. They expand to reveal a plethora of baby items: a beautifully hand-carved cradle, which will magically grow to accommodate their child through the stages of its life; a stack of soft white squares to use as diapers and pins charmed to never stick an infant's' tender skin; rubber diapers pants and blankets, booties and hats, shirts and darling little cloth's to use when burping.

All these things and a hundred more, and Newt is watching her carefully, almost fearfully. Tina buries her face in a stack of items and inhales deeply. Then she puts her arms around Newt and _squeezes._

He smiles bashfully and toes the floor while they both pretend she isn't weeping.

* * *

They are disturbed one morning in early July by a _pop_ , extraordinarily loud in the quiet of the room.

Newt jerks awake and is instantly alert; Tina takes a while longer, and it takes her longer still to figure out what the noise was. She excuses herself to the bathroom to clean up, but all day she feels fundamentally off. By mid-afternoon, regular cramps have sunk their teeth into her lower belly, and they refuse to let go. By early evening, a steady stream of discharge and the accompanying pain drives her to seek out Newt and inform him of their impending arrival.

He is _amazingly_ calm as he summons the witch-midwife. Tina thinks nothing of it when he casts his Patronus and a small, waddling, spiny _something_ leaps from his wand. He sends the message and settles her on the couch while he flits around the apartment, preparing sheets and towels, performing cleansing and imperviousness spells on their bed and other furniture, and situating the items their baby will need immediately.

When that's all done, and Tina is tense with pain and anticipation, he settles behind her and works at the knots in her lower back.

The witch midwife's stork Patronus swoops in and informs them that she and her assistant are in the midst of a difficult birth, clear on the other end of the island, and likely won't make it for many hours.

Tina freezes in despair until the next wave of pain buries her. Newt takes a moment to panic calmly. Then he centers himself and informs her that he's had plenty of experience helping his creatures give birth and that he's confident of being able to help her.

Tina trusts him implicitly, and the thought of making the trip to the wizard hospital makes her quail, so she agrees.

Newt proves himself eminently capable. Tina alternates between bouts of exhilaration and intense panic. He helps her through both until the sharp, glassy pains consume her, at which point all other thoughts cease to matter. She feels the need to move between each jag so she walks and paces until her body demands repose. With his gentle encouragement, she submits to the urge.

Tina eventually winds up squatting in a corner, using the wall for leverage. Newt's hands work the kinks out of her back until she can no longer stand it and snarls for him to step away. He does without comment. Five minutes later she begs for his return, and ten minutes after that he's holding a basin beneath her as she retches from the combination of pain and nerves.

He cleans up the mess and resumes his steady kneading, and they go on like this until a great and immense pressure takes her, and the need to _bear down_ is all-consuming.

He positions her on her hands and knees, and she endures each peak and valley of pressure with bared teeth. Eventually, the child _shifts_ and the discomfort eases somewhat. She can think now, between each contraction, and he allows her sips of water as she rests on her forearms, groaning deep in her chest. Then another jagged wave comes and she's buried again, her body working entirely independently of her desires to bring their child into the world.

She bears down when her body requires it and breathes deeply when he urges, and looks away when he uses his hands to determine her progress.

There's another elemental shift and suddenly the urge to push is more intense than ever, so she does. Tina gives a sharp cry when their child's crowning is accompanied by an intense burning. Newt assures her that he can see the head, topped with hair as dark as a crow's wing. He waits until she recovers before using her shoulders to lever her until she squats on her haunches. Gravity helps settle them both into position.

Then Tina experiences the most intense pain yet, enough to drown out all other sensory input. Newt sports gloves made of her own blood while she burns and aches and stretches until she tears like old bed sheets. She barely notices that sting because another surge of pain drowns her, yet Tina doesn't mind because this pain is different, this is pain with a _purpose_ , and she knows she's almost there.

She weeps while Newt croons at her encouragingly. Another spate, turning her stomach and thighs into stone while Tina grunts and labors. She gives it her all, teeth bared in a feral grin, and with it, the child's head is free of her.

Newt grips it by the neck, guiding them both while he admonishes her to breathe deeply and collect herself. She pants through another surge. It's less intense than those before, and Newt uses it to ease the shoulders out, first one and then the other. Then, with one last straining gasp from Tina, their child slithers free, spurting forth on a wave of blood, purple and wrinkled and _frighteningly still._

Tina holds her breath while Newt uses his wand to suction the baby's mouth and nose before blowing a sharp puff of air directly into its face. The baby starts, sucks in a ragged breath, then voices a single wet, indignant blat. Newt sags in relief at the sound. Tina sways where she crouches, feeling suddenly empty and useless and pale.

He makes quick work of tying and cutting the cord and Tina is free at last, her body entirely her own for the first time since October.

Newt touches her shoulder to gain her eye and informs her that they have a son. His gaze is soft and proud and his smile is entirely for her.

He cleans the newborn with infinite tenderness, before swaddling him in a soft blanket. He holds their baby out to her, encouraging her to take him. Tina hesitates only a moment; then instinct and longing kick in and her arms are full of the light bundle, her son a warm weight against her chest, and Tina isn't sure if she's laughing or crying.

Newt gives them a private moment while he brings the cradle to her side. He then urges her to set their son down so they can deal with the afterbirth and the mess.

He handles the aftermath with clinical efficiency, and once Tina and the baby are clean and tucked into bed, and Tina's wounds are healed with soft cloths piled between her thighs to catch the bleeding, he teaches her how to nurse. It isn't as easy as it seems at first, but he is patient in guiding her, and soon the baby is suckling while deep waves of contentment course through her.

Newt curls around them, eyes never leaving her or their progeny. He isn't flush with hormones and joy like she is, so he winds up falling asleep, snoring gently into her shoulder.

Tina watches him sleep, watches their son sleep, and sends up a quick prayer of thanks to Merlin for them both.


	5. Epilogue

August comes round again, and it's been a year since Newt returned to her.

Tina watches him feed and change Corvin's diapers expertly, and reflects on the path that took them here. Newt doesn't notice her, wholly intent on the babe in his arms, and she doesn't make a sound when she walks away.

She removes her shift and climbs into bed, sinfully naked and luxuriating in it. There are thin silver scars marring the skin of her hips and stomach, evidence of the way she'd stretched to accommodate her child. Her breasts are round and full of milk, the nipples still unusually dark, and they ache if she doesn't nurse regularly.

Newt has taught her a clever spell that draws out her milk and places it in stasis, and they use it so Newt can take nighttime feeding duty. This night, she used the spell twice, and his gaze was speculative when she sets the glass bottles aside.

Tina waits for her man to come to bed so she can know him again, for the first time since giving birth. Eventually, Newt strolls into the room and sheds his pajamas to climb beneath the covers after one look at her.

She's nervous about the changes to her body but the enthusiasm in his mouth, hands, and fingers reassure her. She is diligent in casting a contraceptive charm before he enters her, and they discover to their delight that her physical changes aren't an impediment; if anything, Tina knows better how to move to pleasure herself, which ultimately pleases him.

Afterward, they lay pressed together and talk as lovers do, reacquainting themselves with their minds and hearts as well as their bodies.

Tina wakes up alone, discovering Newt's spot has long since gone cold. She finds him in their son's room, rocking gently as he cradles the baby. There are diapers washing in the corner, and Corvin's eyes are fixed on his father as he feeds, his gaze adoring. Newt's smile is the same when he looks at her, and he ducks his head shyly when she grins back.

Tina folds her arms and leans against the door frame. The sun is shining, turning Newt's hair into molten copper. Their son has her hair but his father's eyes and his father adores him and the woman who labored to bring him into the world in equal measure.

Watching them, Tina is happy in a way she never thought possible.

In the morning light, with her family before her and their future bright, Tina knows a moment of perfect peace.

* * *

 **Author's note** : You can find me on Tumblr (username: katiehavok) if that's your thing. I would recommend seeking me out there—it's the best place to find me if you wish to keep track of my works, and I _always_ accept prompts and requests for Newt/Tina and Newt/Queenie. Thanks, as always, to Kemara for beta-reading and general encouragements.


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